


The Brandt

by fannyvonfabulus



Category: Jeremy Renner - Fandom
Genre: F/M, PTSD, Past Torture, Space Cowboys - Freeform, Space Renner, implied rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 11:27:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannyvonfabulus/pseuds/fannyvonfabulus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darklis Maitland just wants to do her job and forget about the past.  </p><p>Then she meets Jeremy Renner and it all goes to shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, i had this idea last year when I was walking to work and it wouldn't go away so I wrote it down. Its a work in progress so be patient but I think it could be a thing now. Space Cowboys. I also may or may not have rewatched Firefly AND Pitch Black when I came up with this.
> 
> WARNING: Mention of rape in this chapter. And most other chapters. And mention of quite graphic torture. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
> 
> I'm also going for a world record of how many Renner character names can I get into one fic. 
> 
> This is all unbeta'd so apologies. Point out the mistakes and I'll fix them.

“Gamble 6, Gamble 6, this is The Brandt requesting permission to dock.”

_“Brandt this is Gamble 6. Permission granted. Welcome home Maitland. ”_

“Thank you Jones.  It’s good to be back.”

And it was good to be back.  After being away for 6 months, it felt good to finally come home, even if It was only going to be for a few days before I had to head back out into space for another run to the Trant Nebula to pick up another cargo of ship parts.  I transport all sorts, sometimes trading along the way. Some would call me a Merc but I prefer Logistics Officer as I can’t stand being lumped in with those bounty hunting cunts.  What I did was boring and repetitive but it was steady work and it paid the bills.  And the Trant Nebula was one of my regular runs.“Pays the bills on a place I never get to fucking use,” I grumble, dusty work boots up on the control panel in front of me as I let the autopilot do the work for now.  The Brandt was more home than the tiny flat I had on Gamble 6.  She was a small, trader class skiff with only room for 4 crew members but unless I was carrying people, it was just me and her.

And I liked it that way.  I’d had crew before but ended up leaving them on the icy planet Scroner after I found out they’d been stealing from me.  I didn’t have any family and no-one that I would call a friend.  Sure, I knew people at the various space ports I had to frequent for business but no-one particularly close.  And no-one special.  I preferred it that way.  Easier to get the job done without other people to worry about.  So it was just me and The Brandt or Bee as I liked to call her and I was happy with that. 

The view from the control deck of The Brandt was spectacular.  Gamble 6 was a lot like Earth from orbit; blue oceans and white clouds.  The only difference was that the land part was all one mass, much like Pangaea was back on Earth.  Earth.A million miles away now.  10 light years to be exact.  It hadn’t been home to the human race for a long, long time now.  I’d certainly never known it but I knew what we’d done to it and why we’d had to leave.  Now Gamble 6 was home to humans along with 3 other planets in this Nebula, all earth like but with slight differences.  As a race, we’d really hit the jackpot when we’d found this solar system.

“Maybe we’ll fuck this one up too,” I mutter to myself as I strap myself into the pilot seat and flick of the auto pilot before giving the console a loving stroke.  “Let’s go home baby.”

Burning through Gamble 6’s atmosphere, the colours burning in front of The Brandt’s nose were beautiful. They never ceased to make me smile as I watch the pink, purple and red flicker around me and before long, we’re through and starting the decent to land.  Through the clouds and downwards towards New London (yeah, imaginative) and home for a few days.  I lower The Brandt onto the hard standing at the trade port nearest home and start to shut her down before l have to leave her for a few days.

“Now be good baby,” I say to her as I walk around the control deck turning switches off and picking up empty coffee mugs.  “I’ll be back in a couple of days to give you some TLC before we have to leave again for Trant.”  I can hear her metal hull cooling after our re-entry with the occasion metallic twang and I sling my bag over my shoulder and make my way down the ramp to the landing pad.  Nudging a button on the outside of the hull, the ramp closes again, I give her an affectionate pat before sauntering off towards the signing in booth at the end of the landing zone.  It automated so I slid my trader’s card into the slot and it registers me.  Everything in order, I head for the tower block that contains my flat and a nice, hot shower.

*********

Two days later and I’m back with my Bee, checking fluid levels, examining the hull and giving her the once over.

“Yo! Maitland!” I hear my name being shouted as I’m welding a small crack in The Brandt’s hull.

“That you Gus?” I call back, lifting my goggles to squint past Bee’s nose at the figure walking towards me. 

“Sure is.  How’s tricks?” Gus is the port manager and I must have known him my whole life.  He’s just always been there.  He’s getting old now, well into his 60’s but he was still going strong.  Gamble 6’s space port was one of the biggest in the Trant but he seemed to manage the place with ease.  I hugged him and smiled.  Gus was probably the closest thing to a family I had and it was good to see him.

“Ah, y’know,” I say, wiping my forehead on my arm and managing to smear grease across my face.  “Boring but its steady money.”

“Still working alone?” He asks running a hand over the cool metal of Bee’s underbelly.

“Yup. And that’s how I like it so don’t be trying to palm your grandson off on me again,” I scold jokingly.  Gus has an errant grandson, Saul, who always seemed to be in trouble with the Law and Gus thought that sending him off with me would be a good idea.  Learn some manners, he would say.  Learn how to work.

“Would I?” Gus grins and I raise an eyebrow at him.  “OK, I would.”

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of a visit?” I ask, ever direct which makes Gus chuckle.

“Always could see through me,” He shakes his head.  “Alright, I need you to pick something up for me when you’re back in Trant.  It’s nothing important, just a part but I can’t get there for another few weeks.”

“For you Gus? Anything!” And I prod his belly.  He  gives me the details, we hug again and he makes his way back to go do whatever it is he does while I turn my attention back to The Brandt.

*********

Four days later and we’re on CB-401 picking up the cargo of parts and Gus’ new radio transmitter.  There are the usual types in the bar that night – wheeler dealers, cocky young pilots and old hands.  I get the usual barrage of wolf-whistles and barks thanks to being the only woman in the place who isn’t a hooker.  I’m used to it.  Happens everywhere I go and its just part of doing what I do.  I’ve never met another woman who does my job so I got used to the treatment from all the men pretty quick.  I beat a few of them at cards, take their money and leave for The Brandt before they get to the point of drunkenness that they start to get violent.  It’s been known to happen.  I carry a large hunting knife with me at all times as I’ve been caught out before.  Been too drunk to notice and ended up face down in the mud outside some godforsaken bar on some shitty planet with blood pouring out of my face after picking on the wrong people.  The other downside of being the only female doing what I do is that every man will, at some point, assume that you’re his for the taking.  They’re all big guys, they have to be and they’re strong.  Almost too strong for me on one particular occasion.  Had it not been for a passing group of hookers moving onto another bar, I would have been held down and fucked by about 4 of them. 

Safely back on The Brandt, I settle down on the control deck with a bottle of scotch.  Not easy to get these days but I’d traded some sapphires for this bottle.  I pour myself a glass and stick my feet on the console, my boots having worn a slight grove in the metal where I’d put them so many times before.  I yawn, knowing that I should go to bed, but the thought of having to even get changed out of my black utility trousers and grey vest top made me yawn again.

“Fuck it,” I murmur and settle back in my pilot’s chair and go to sleep.  

*********

What the fuck was that? I think to myself on the flight back to Gamble 6 two days later.  I’d heard a noise while I was walking down one of the corridors and it sounded like there was someone else on board.  I draw my knife, heart beating a little harder as I slowly make my way back towards the control deck.

There it was again. 

Flexing my fingers around the handle of the knife, I flatten myself against the wall and slowly work my way to the doorway of the flight deck.   
I almost don’t have time to react.Almost.

An arm around my throat gets the response of my elbow hard in some ribs and I spin around before pinning the intruder against the wall of the ship, forearm pressed hard against a chest and my knife to a throat.

“Who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you doing on my ship?”

My brown eyes meet a pair of blue-green ones.  A man.  A man on my ship.  Fucker.

“Well?” I press the knife against the skin at his throat.

“OK, OK,” He pleads, hands up in surrender.  “You win.”

“Answer me.”

“Renner.  The name’s Renner.”

“And?” I lean against him harder and he winces.

“I needed a ride to Gamble 6 so I snuck on board,” He’s wheezing as I lean all my weight against his chest.  “I’m sorry.”

Not convinced. But I let him go. He bends over, hands on his knees to catch his breath. He reaches to his throat and finds blood.

“Geez lady!"

“My fucking ship.”

“Hey,” He stands up and reaches out a hand to touch my shoulder.  I raise my fist, landing a punch to his left cheek and he slithers to the floor clutching his face.

“What the fuck?!”

“Just showing you who the boss is here.  We clear?”

“Clear.”


	2. Chapter 2

He’s on his knees in the middle of the corridor and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, blood starting to trickle from his lips. I must have loosened a tooth with that right hook.

Good.

Fucker shouldn’t have snuck on board.

He’s wearing well worn black leather trousers and dusty old black boots with an equally worn and dusty looking blue shirt, and charcoal grey waistcoat. 

With a pocket watch.

A FUCKING POCKET WATCH.

His black leather duster coat has been worn to grey in places and comes to his knees and there's a forest green bandana tied around his neck. Well, it was green. It was now spattered with blood from his neck and mouth. 

Who the fuck was he?

“Merc?” I ask. He shakes his head. No, he didn’t look like a Merc dressed like that. He could have walked straight out of one of those old cowboy films I used to watch as a kid. 

I see something just inside his coat.

“If you’re not a Merc,” I say, reaching down and pulling two 6-shooter hand guns out of thigh holsters that he has hidden under his coat. I aim them both at his head. “Then why the fuck do you have these?”

“Protection.”

“From who?”

“None of your business.”

I cock both guns, still aiming at his head.

“Just some…….. unwanted attention.” He waves his hand. “They don’t know I’m here so you and your piece of shit skiff are perfectly safe.”

He’s smirking at me.

Thinks he’s funny.

I press a barrel of one of the guns into his forehead and he knows he’s over stepped the mark.

All I have to do is pull the trigger.

I don’t.

Instead, I hit him round the side of the head with the butt of one of the guns.

He’s out cold.

“Great,” I sigh. “Why the fuck do I never remember to do that BEFORE I’ve tied them to a fucking chair?”

******** 

Sitting on the flight deck later with my feet up on the console again and a coffee in hand, I contemplate what to do with him. I've tied him to the other flight chair on the control deck. With an arm either side of the chair and his legs tied to the bottom. 

He's not going anywhere. 

I don't want him getting loose seeing as I've no idea who he is. I don't need a complete stranger running around The Brandt. Dressed like that, he could be anyone. He doesn't seem like a Merc but I've been fooled before. 

“Wake up you,” I give his leg a kick to wake him up while I sit in my pilot’s chair opposite him. He stirs. “I want to answers.”

His head lolls slightly as he comes to. He tries to raise his hands as he slowly wakes up. Panic flits across his face when he realises that he's tied.

“W....what the _fuck_ lady?”

“Can't have you running around my 'piece of shit skiff' when I don't know who you are. And you did try to strangle me.”

He doesn't answer back. He knows I'm right. He winces a little, the pain from the side of his head kicking in. His lip is cut from where I punched him and he tries his jaw.

“Quite a right hook you've got there.”

“You learn things when you do what I do.”

“Oh, I know what you do Maitland.”

My eyes snap up to his. 

What?

“How do you know my name?”

“You learn a lot of things when you do what I do.”

Smug fucker.

“Darklis Maitland. Owner of The Brandt. Logistics Officer, trader and transporter. No family to speak of, no real friends. A loner.”

My eyes widen. 

How does he know all this?

“I've been watching you. For a long time.” His blue-green eyes flash at me and he's smirking at me again. He knows he's caught me off guard this time.

“So you _are_ a Merc?”

“No, but I've had enough dealings with them.”

“On the run?”

“Not exactly.......”

He was trouble, I knew it. And the fucker had brought it to my door. 

“Are they looking for you?”

“Yes.”

“When was the last time you had a run in with them?”

“About 2 weeks ago on Walsh Beta. Managed to lose them since.”

“If they come knocking, I _WILL_ hand you over.”

“No you won't.”

“Or just shoot you.”

“No, you won't.”

“Why?”

“Because I know you Darklis Maitland.”

********* 

This Renner was trouble. 

Big trouble.

I'd never set eyes on him before in my life and yet he knew me. I was always so careful – how had I not noticed him before? He'd clearly been following me but how had I not seen him?

I'm in my bunk in one of the 2 crew rooms on The Brandt. Staring at the ceiling isn't bringing me any answers but being on the flight deck with Renner had started to make me restless. He had watched me as I'd paced the control room, his glinting eyes burning into the back of my skull. His smirk seemed to be a permanent fixture and I hate to admit it, but he'd unsettled me. I had been tempted just put a bullet in his head and be done with it. I could hand over his body to the Law when I got back to Gamble 6 and it be done with it.

But, as hard as I try not to be, I'm intrigued. And it would be better to get all the answers out of him before the Mercs came knocking, which they would if he was telling the truth. At least I'd be more prepared.

I had a feeling that he wasn't going to show me all his cards at once though, that much was obvious.

I sigh and rub my eyes. 

Why me? 

Why now? 

I can hear a voice as I lie there.

“HEY LADY!”

Its Renner, still tied to the seat on the control deck down the corridor. I'd left the door to my quarters open so I can keep an ear on him,

“What?” I shout back.

“Think you could untie me now?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“I'm really uncomfortable.”

“And that's my problem because......?”

It goes quiet again and all I can hear is the gentle and reassuring hum of The Brandt.

“I'm thirsty,” Renner calls from across the corridor.

“Again, not my problem.”

“Look, just untie me. I promise not to give you any more trouble.”

“Renner?”

“Yup?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

******** 

A hand over my mouth.

A weight on top of me.

A human weight.

My eyes fly open and Renner is straddling me, his hand clamped over my mouth, arms pinned by his knees.

I start to fight, try to get free.

He's strong.

Really strong.

And his face is right over mine.

How did he get free from the flight chair?

“Sssshhhhh.....” He brings a finger to his lips to hush me. I ignore it and fight harder, twisting my body to try and get my arms free. 

I can't.

I remember the four guys pinning me down in the mud outside that shitty bar and the panic starts to rise.

It's not going to happen again.

I use the only thing I have, my teeth, and I sink them into the palm of his hand that's over my mouth. He takes it at first but when I taste blood, he winces and pulls his hand away.

“Feisty!”

“Get the fuck off of me.”

“No.”

We glare at each other.

“I said, get the fuck off of me.”

“Not until you calm down.”

“Calm down? _CALM THE FUCK DOWN_?!”

My legs are still relatively free, and with one, swift moment, I ram a knee into his back as hard as I can. He falls forwards onto me, the wind knocked out of him which it means I can get my arms out from under his knees. Before he can get his breath back, I push him off me, reach for the knife I keep under my pillow and jump off the bunk. He's rolling around on the bunk gasping after my blow to his back. I flip him onto his back and straddle him the same way he did me, arms pinned and making sure I've got his legs too with my feet across his thighs. I press my knife to his throat again and his eyes open wide.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just slit your fucking throat right now?”

“Because you need my help.” He gasps, still fighting to get his breath back to normal. “And because I came to tell you that we're being followed.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Reference to Rape and torture in this chapter.

“I should have just fucking shot you earlier,” I hiss at him, pressing my knife against his throat a little harder. “If we’re being followed by Mercs, I’m putting you in the airlock and sending you into fucking space.” 

I’m glaring at him. 

He’s glaring back. 

He looks a little scared. 

Of me or the Mercs, I’m not sure. 

“You can get off me now,” He says, his voice low. 

With one last warning look, I climb off him and run down the corridor to the flight deck, my boots making that familiar metallic sound on the metal floor. I jump into my chair to look at the monitors. 

He’s right. 

We’re being tailed. 

And they’re not being subtle about it. 

“Told you,” He appears in the doorway to the flight deck and leans on the frame there, arms folded. 

How the fuck did he get out of the restraints? 

“Oh, I’m quite the escape artist,” He says, waving his hands in the air as I look at him, eyes narrowed. 

“Just sit down and don’t fucking say anything,” I say and point at the chair next to me. 

He obeys. 

And shuts up. 

I can’t work out f it’s because he thinks I’m about to get him out of trouble or whether it’s because I pose too much of a threat. 

I hope it’s the latter. 

Although, if that is Mercs tailing us, I’m tempted to cover for him. 

I want to know why and how he knows me. 

The read out on the monitor shows that our tail has been following us since we left CB-401.  I growl in the back of my throat for not having been more thorough when checking the Brandt before we left.  If I’d checked _everywhere_ , I would have found Renner and thrown him off the ship before we’d even left.  Then I wouldn’t be in this situation. 

“Go to the galley. There’s a hidden floor under the hydration unit. Get in it, stay there and keep quiet until I come and get you, understood?” I say to him without looking up and strapping myself into the chair harness. 

He doesn’t need to be told twice and disappears in a swirl of leather, his boots on the metal grate flooring making a clattering sound as he runs towards the galley. 

“Ship to the rear, this is The Brandt. Please identify yourself,” I bark into the comm., trying to raise the following ship. I want them to know I see them. 

No answer. 

“I say again, Ship to the rear, this is The Brandt. Please identify yourself.” 

Still nothing. 

“Hailing the N-class piece of shit that’s been following me since CB-401, this is The Brandt – who the fuck are you and why are you tailing me?” 

There’s a pause. 

“ _Maitland, this is The Barton. I see you haven’t changed_.” 

My blood runs cold. 

I know that voice. 

Jem James. Ruthless Merc, kills for fun and never takes no for an answer. NEVER takes no for an answer. I wince at the sound of his voice. 

“James, why the fuck are you tailing me?” 

 _“Can’t an old friend tail another old friend just for old time’s sake?”_  

“ _WHY_ James?”

_“Rumour has it you took on a little extra cargo on CB-401”_

“Bullshit.” 

_“Then you won’t mind if I come aboard and look for myself.”_

“You have no jurisdiction here James and you know it.” 

The comm. goes quiet for a second or two. 

 _“You’re right there Maitland. But it doesn’t mean I’m not coming aboard.”_  

I feel panic rising. 

I can’t outrun The Barton.  She’s a military class ship and The Brandt is just a freighter.  I don’t want James aboard either.  He’s violent and unpredictable.  I’d managed to stay out of his way until now. How did he know about Renner?  Someone must have seen him sneak on board.  

I have no choice. 

“Fine. But make it quick. I’m on a tight schedule.

******* 

“So, this is The Brandt,” James says as he looks around the galley.  He’s tall and lithe but his looks are deceiving.  He’s incredibly strong and has the sharpest reflexes I’ve ever seen. 

“Yeah, it is.  Now if you don’t mind, I have somewhere to be.  Think you could hurry it up?”

“Patience Maitland,” He almost purrs at me and runs a finger down my cheek.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” I spit back.

“Manners,” He replies, gripping my face with his long fingers.  “Remember what happened last time.”

I swallow hard.

I remember.

And I still have the scars.

“Just get the fuck off my ship,” I manage to whisper as his steel grey eyes bore into me, his grin wide and sinister.

He laughs and drops his hand.  I exhale silently with relief.  Relief that he seems to be getting ready to leave and relief that he hasn’t found Renner’s hiding place. 

“Fine Maitland, I’m leaving.  But I’ll be watching you.”

He leaves me in the galley standing on top of the hidden floor.  I listen for the docking door hiss that tells me James has gone before going back to the control deck.

My hands are shaking as I reach for the scotch and my skin is clammy.

“Who the fuck was that?” Renner asks me as he appears in the doorway. 

“You didn’t tell me you were being followed by Jem fucking James,” I hiss at him and down the whisky in one before pouring another.

“And what did he mean ‘remember what happened last time?”

I shudder, trying not to remember and not wanting to tell Renner.

But I want him to feel bad.

“I’ve known him for years,” I say in a low voice. “Last time I had a run in with James, about 2 years ago, he raped and tortured me for 3 days before he let me go,”

Renner’s face goes white and his jaw sets.  I can see the whites of his knuckles as he clenches his fists.  He lowers his head, shaking it slowly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t……”

“No, you didn’t fucking know,” I spit at him, downing another shot. 

I fix him with a glare.

“But now you owe me so before I throw you out the fucking air lock, you’re going to tell me everything you fucking have on me and why you snuck onto my ship and put me face to face with that twisted cunt again.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: References to bloody violence, torture and rape.

Renner stood in the doorway, knuckles white and jaw clenched. 

“I had no idea.  If I knew, I wouldn’t have…..”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t have snuck on board,” I snap, pinching the top of my nose between my eyes in my fingers.  “Just tell me what I want to know.”

Renner inhales sharply and slowly walks over to where I’m sitting to take the scotch bottle.  I watch him but don’t stop him.  He takes a swig and sits in the other flight chair. He swigs again and hands me back the bottle.

“I’m a cheap hustler,” He begins.  “I go from planet to planet cheating at cards and doing some backdoor deals. It’s a shitty living but I don’t know anything else.  My father was the same and I learnt from him.”

I listen as he starts his story.  All I really want to know is how the fuck I come into all this. 

And how quickly I can get rid of him.

“The short version of this story is that I crossed James in card game on CB-401 a few months back.  He’s pissed about it.”

“So, it’s personal between both of you, not business?” I state, taking another mouthful of whisky and feel it burn my throat a little.  “Well, you’re utterly fucked then”

“Thanks,” Renner smiles weakly and holds out his hand for the bottle again.  I pass it to him.  He’s shaking a little.

“A job for James is one thing, its business.  But a personal vendetta?  He’s going to tear you a new one.”

“What did you do to make him do that to you?” Renner asks and my breath catches in my throat as I remember.

“My punishment was personal,” I start, still not sure if I want to tell him what happened but I’ve got a buzz from the scotch and I still want to make him feel bad.  I roll up my grey vest and expose the gnarled and scared flesh of my side.  “That’s where he peeled my skin away with a blow torch and fucking pliers because I said no.  And that’s not the worst.”

Renner’s face pales as he looks at my horribly damaged skin and swallows hard.  He begins to reach out a hand to touch me but thinks better of it.

“What did you do?”

“I said no,” I say simply, rolling my vest back down.  “He wanted to take my cargo just because he likes rare gemstones and I said no.  I spent the next 3 days on The Barton with that sick fucker before he let me go.  Said he was ‘teaching me a lesson.’ He took my shipment anyway.”

“You knew what he was like and you still said no?”

“I _thought_ I knew what he was like,” I shrug.  “I had no idea just how fucking sick he’d become.”

“And he……. he raped you?”

I swig deeply from the bottle as my mind recalls those three days.

Three days of unrelenting hell.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?  You didn’t do it.”

“No, but…….”

“It’s done.  Just know that as soon as we’re back on Gamble 6, I never want to fucking see your sorry arse again.”

“OK.”

“Now, tell me what I want to know.”

Renner breathes deeply, thinking about how much he wants say and how much he’s actually going to tell me.

“I knew your father,” He begins and my eyes lock onto his. 

“My father?”

“Yup.  You should know that he was a good man. Well, until he met my dad.  You ever wonder how they died, your parents?”

“They died in a house fire thanks to some fucked electrics.”

Renner shakes his head, his eyes mournful as he tries to meet my stare but fails.

“That’s half true,” He goes on, still looking me in the eye.  He takes a deep breath.  “They died because of a card game my father threw.  Your father got mixed up in it and he paid the price.  The people my dad ripped off went looking for him. They didn’t know that it was your family in there – they thought it was mine.”

Time stops.

My heart stops.

Everything stops.

“I’ve been looking for you for a while now, trying to track you down,” Renner continues, his eyes fixed on my shoulder. 

“Why?” My voice sounds hollow.

“To try….. to try and show you some sort of remorse for what my daddy did I guess.”

I can’t form any words.

My mind is racing and my vision is blurring.

All this time and I didn’t know.

All this time and I had to hear it from him.

Gus.  Gus must have known and he said nothing.

Bile rising.

Feel nauseous.

“Hey lady, you don’t look good.” A voice, so far away. 

Stumble forward out the chair.

Steadying hands on my shoulders.

Can’t think.

Blackness…..

  
  ***************

I’m in my bunk, the lights are low.  There’s something cold and damp on my forehead.  I can hear a voice.

“Maitland…….”

Try to focus.

Mouth dry.

“Hey Maitland………”

There’s a big, warm hand against my cheek and I can feel my brow furrow.  I don’t try to fight it.

“You’re still here then?” I manage to murmur.

There’s a raspy chuckle.

“Yup, still here,” Renner says removed the cold, damp thing from my forehead.

I start to sit up, take in my surroundings.  He’s put me fully clothed into my bunk and there are empty coffee mugs on the metal table beside the bed. 

“How long was I out?”

“A few hours.”

Then everything that he said to me comes flooding back.  My parents, the lies I’ve been told and the bile starts to rise again.

“Gus, how could he…..” I whisper, head in my hands.

“Maybe he didn’t know,” Renner says, passing me a glass of water.  I take it and drink it down.  “I didn’t know until about 6 months ago.”

Before I can stop them, tears start to slow silently down my cheeks.  I’m furious at showing such weakness in front of a stranger but I can’t stop them.  Renner instinctively puts an arm around me but I flinch at his touch.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” I hiss at him and get up from my bunk and make my way to the flight deck, leaving him perched on the edge of the bunk.


	5. Chapter 5

“Look, I get that you don’t want me on your ship,” Renner says as he follows me to the flight deck. “You don’t want anyone on your ship. You’d rather be on your own and I don’t blame you after what James did to you.” 

I slump in my flight chair, frantically wiping away my tears with the back of my hand. I can’t stop them and a strangled sob gets stuck in my throat. 

“And I especially get why you don’t want a man on your ship,” His voice softens as he says that, slowly walking towards me. 

“Don’t you dare come any fucking closer,” I sob, still trying to stem the tidal wave of tears and emotions that are rushing out of me. 

Can’t breathe properly. 

Chest feels constricted. 

Oh god…….. 

“Sweetheart, you need to try and slow your breathing,” Renner says kneeling in front of me. He’s smart enough not to try and touch me. “Just try and take a deep breath in……. that’s it…….. and out………good girl.” 

Each time I try to breath in, my breath hitches as another sob tries to escape. He’s breathing slowly with me, trying to get me to mimic him. 

“Just relax, it’s OK. It’s just you and me, nobody else,” He almost croons at me and I shoot him a glare. “You’re right, sorry. Just keep taking deep breaths in, I’ll get you some water.” He gets up to leave the room. 

“Sc…..sc…..scotch,” I stammer between gulps of air. 

He disappears leaving me to control my breathing alone. I pull a breath in and hold it, my heart pounding in my chest. I release it slowly and do the same again. 

I need to get a grip on myself. 

This is showing weakness. 

And in front of a stranger. 

Renner comes back with a mug of water and the bottle of scotch. I snatch the bottle from him and chug a few mouthfuls. The liquid burns my throat but it’s a welcome pain. Its warmth starts to spread in my mouth and I start to relax a little. It makes my breathing easier. I take another swig and swallow hard. 

“Hey, not too much of that,” Renner says gently and passes me the water. 

He’s removed his leather coat and his shirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbows exposing strong, muscular, vein crossed forearms. His hands don't look like they belong to a card player either. They’re calloused from manual labour and a few of his fingers look like they’ve been broken and not reset properly.  

Nothing about his arms or hands say card hustler. 

I’m being lied to. 

“You’re not just a card player,” I state. 

He little panic crosses his face as he sees me looking. 

“You _can_ trust me, if that’s what you mean,” 

“Trust you?” I snort, taking a mouthful of water. “After you snuck on board my ship and led Jem James right to my fucking door?” 

“Look lady, You’ve got things you don’t want to tell me and I’ve got some things I don’t want to tell you,” Renner says tersely and starts to roll his sleeves down. Something makes me stop him with a hand on his arm. It’s strangely comforting to see the arms of a labouring man. 

It reminds me of my father. 

I realise that I’m touching him and snatch my hand back. He leaves his cuffs rolled up and leans against the console next to me. 

“Y’know, you _can_ trust me,” He says, folding his arms across his chest and looking down at me. “I came looking for you to tell you the truth and try to make up for what my daddy did.” 

I stare ahead, eyes glazed as my brain tried to register what I’ve learnt. I shake my head, more to try and clear the fog than anything else. I chug back more scotch, already starting to feel it’s warm fingers spreading through my body. 

I’ll get drunk. 

Blind, stinking, fucked up drunk. 

Block it all out. 

“Maitland, I’m here to help you,” He goes on, his voice still soft and a little husky and as the haze of whisky starts to take over from the mental fog, he sounds soothing and relaxing. 

“Fuck it, I’m getting drunk,” I slur slightly. “And I’m not drinking alone.”

********************************************************************

My head. 

Oh sweet Jesus fuck my head. 

Pounding. 

Feels like it’s splitting open. 

Open eyes. 

Light burning. 

My fucking head……….. 

With all the effort in the world, I lift my head up and squint my eyes against the pain that’s exploding in my skull.  

I’m in my bunk. 

But my bunk doesn’t feel quite right. 

Somethings different. 

I look down and see two pairs of boots. 

My eyes move upwards and take in two pairs of legs. Further up and I can see that my arm is sprawled across a chest. 

A chest that’s wearing a waistcoat. 

I feel an arm wrapped around my shoulders protectively and despite the agonising pain in my head, I sit bolt upright, my back against the wall at the bottom of the bunk and pull my knees to my chest. The empty scotch bottle is resting on the floor still wrapped in his long fingers as his arm hangs over the side of the bunk. 

We’re both fully clothed. 

Nothing happened. 

Can’t have done. 

If he’d tried anything, the body in the bunk would be a dead one and he’s breathing steadily and deeply. 

How could I have been so careless? 

Deep in thought, I don’t notice him stirring. He groans as his own headache hits him. I look at him as he wakes, his brow knotted in pain and eyes narrowed against the dim light of the room. The scotch bottle falls and rolls away under the bunk as he brings the heels of his hands up to press into his eye sockets. He notices that i'm no longer lying on top of him and his squinting eyes search the bunk for me. They find me hunched up at the end of the bunk, glaring at him over the top of my knees. 

“Before you say anything, I didn't try anything,” He says to me, wincing as he sits up and swinging his legs over the side of the bunk. “You passed out in your flight chair. I carried you in here and when I tried to put you down, you wouldn't let go of my neck so I had to climb into the bunk with you.” 

“Why did you stay?” 

“I must have passed out too.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“Honestly? You needed someone to lean on and I'm the only one here.” 

I try to find a comeback but there isn't one. My whisky soaked brain had reached out and latched on to the only other human being on The Brandt when it had needed support. After trying so hard for so long to be hardened to everything, so utterly devoid of feeling, all it had taken was a bottle of scotch to reverse all of that. 

And there it was again. 

Weakness. 

“Don't worry, it won't happen again,” Renner sighs, his shoulders sagging before he pushes himself up and walks out of my quarters, leaving me still huddled at the end of the bunk. 

And before I can stop them, the tears silently start to fall again.


	6. Chapter 6

“Gamble 6, Gamble 6, this is The Brandt requesting permission to dock.” 

_“Brandt, this is Gamble 6. Maitland?”_

“No.” 

 _“Where’s Maitland?”_  

“Busy.” 

 _“Busy?”_  

“Yeah, busy. Look, can we dock or not Gamble 6?” 

 _“Permission granted. Welcome home.”_  

“Missed you too Gamble 6.” 

Renner’s a good pilot.  Normally I wouldn’t let anyone else fly The Brandt but the oxygen leak in the hold is keeping me occupied.  It was either let him try to fix it or fly us home.  I hadn’t wanted him to do either but I certainly didn’t want him working on _my_ ship.  And being down in the hold at least meant that I could avoid him after what had happened the other night. 

In fact, I’d managed to avoid him almost completely since then, aside from the few times we had passed each other in the corridors.  Thankfully, he’s respecting my need to be left alone and hasn’t spoken to me since.  I’d ordered him onto the flight deck to land us and he went without a word. 

I’m grateful for that. 

Now I wasn’t sure how to behave around him.  This was the first time in a very long time that I was in confined quarters with a man that wasn’t trying to get into my pants, either by cajoling or by force. 

It left me uneasy. 

The other kinds of men I could handle – that’s what my knife is for. 

But Renner?  Renner was something entirely different and it was leaving me unsettled. 

That small part of my drunken brain that had clung to him that night was desperate for a little human contact.  The part of me that I had managed to silence a long time ago was now quietly whispering that I should seek out the touch of another person.  

Any person. 

And he was here. 

The rest of my brain was shouting at the weak part to shut the fuck up and get back in the box. 

Besides, we were back on Gamble 6 so I’d be glad to see that back of him.  The deal had been a ride then I’d never see him again.  And considering what he’d already put me through, getting shot of him will be a good thing.  

I feel the ship shudder as we start re-entry and I carry on working, flat on my back on a wheeled wooden board under one of the oxygen tanks trying to stem the leak.  Its going to need work when we land but at least I had a week or so before I’d need to be back out working. 

And there’s Gus to handle. 

Oh, I’ll be talking to Gus.  

I want to find out exactly what he knows about my parents and how they died.  He’s going be telling me everything he knows or I‘ll gut him like a fish, old family friend or not.  I’ve been thinking it over and over in my head over the past few days and I’m itching to get at him.  

He owes me. 

Big time.

“Fuck it,” I hiss as the spanner I’m using to loosen a nut slips out my hand and misses my face by millimetres. 

“You ok?” says a voice from somewhere near my feet.  Peering down the length of my body, I can see a pair of dusty old boots and the bottom of a pair of leather trousers. 

“Fine,” I reply, jaw fixed and go back to trying to loosen the nut. 

“Need a hand?” 

“No.” 

The spanner flies out of my hand again and I shout a barrage of expletives as this time I manage to cut my hand. 

Stupid fucking idiot. 

A foot on the bottom of the board slides me out from under the tank and I sit up. 

“Sure?” He’s smirking at me again as he looks at my grease and dirt covered face and hands.  The smirk becomes a concerned frown when he sees my hand. 

“You’re bleeding,” He says and kneels to take my wrist without thinking.  I try to snatch it away but he keeps hold of me, rolling his eyes a little.  “Settle down lady, I’m just lookin’.” 

I glare at him.  He takes a look at the cut across my palm as the redness of the blood mixes with the black of the dirt on my skin.  

“You a fucking doctor now?” I spit at him, watching his brow furrow as he inspects how deep the wound is and the look he gives me from under his brow is one of exasperation. 

“Well, it won’t need stitching but it needs cleaning,” He drops my wrist and stands up.  

I stand and stalk past him and head towards the galley where the nearest tap is.  He follows me and as I stand at the sink, he watches.  I wince was I feel the water get into the gash across my palm.  Without saying a word, he moves up behind me, takes my hand in his and slowly stretches out my palm so that the water can get right into the cut.  I freeze as I feel him against my back but the part of my brain that wants the contact won’t let me run away this time. 

“Relax, I’m not going to try anything.  There’s not exactly a lot of room in here,” His voice is low and soothing and right next to my ear. And he’s right, there really isn’t a lot of room in the galley for two grown adults so I stay where I am, fighting my body’s urge to relax back against him.  His long fingers gently work the dirt away from the gash until I can see the pink of my skin again. 

“Got a first aid kit?” He asks and I nod towards the cupboard above the sink.  He takes out the small, green box and opens it before inspecting its contents.  I wrap my hand in an old t-shirt that’s lying on the side as he moves off to my left and out the door.  I follow him out to the flight deck and he points at my chair for me to sit down.  I do and he kneels in front of me.  Without him having to say, I offer him my cut hand.  There’s the whisper of a smile on his face as he takes my hand in his and takes out a tube of cream from the first aid kit. 

“This is gonna sting,” He warns and my grunt in reply says that I’ve had worse.  It does sting but the gentleness that he uses to smooth the cream into my palm soon negates any pain I may feel.  “Good girl.” 

I shoot him a warning glare at calling me a ‘good girl’ and he just chuckles quietly to himself as he continues to work the cream into my hand.  I feel my cheeks begin to redden slightly as he holds my hand in his and I fight to put the desperate part of my brain back in it’s box. 

“There, now was that so bad?” Renner says his voice soft as he finishes applying the cream.  I shake my head and he smiles as he takes a field dressing out of the first aid box.  

“I don’t need that,” I say, finding my voice. 

“It’ll keep the dirt out,” He states, wrapping the gauze around my hand.  I can tell that he’s done this many times before, probably to himself.  He finishes and admires his handiwork.  

He doesn’t let my hand go. 

And I don’t snatch it back. 

“You won’t do anything stupid, will you?” He suddenly says, his blue-green eyes piercing my own hazel ones, his brow crinkling with concern and worry. 

“I don’t think that’s any of your fucking business now that we’re back on Gamble 6,” I say, his eyes feeling as if they’re burning into mine. 

He sighs and drops my hand before standing up and packing the first box away. 

“No, it’s not,” He says, his back to me and I can see how solid his shoulders are, even under a waistcoat and shirt.  “But I feel responsible for anything you might do, seeing as how it was me that told you about your father.” 

“I can take care of myself,” I say in a low voice, still staring at his back.  

His shoulders slump and he leans on the console with his fists as he hangs his head a little.  

“Just……..Never mind.” He sighs and walks off with the first aid kit.


	7. Chapter 7

Two days later and my feet are itchy.  

I’ve tried to relax, tried to put off what I know is inevitable but it’s no good.  I’m looking for Gus and I’m not going to stop until I find him. I’ve been to all the usual places but there’s no sign.  He’s not in his office or down at the docks.  He’s not in the usual seedy bars I know he likes so I’m trying some even seedier ones.  

I can take care of myself but even these places make my skin crawl and I jump at every noise that sounds out of place.  This is the disgusting, oozing underbelly of Gamble 6.  Every planet has one if you know where to look.  I’ve put on a long, black coat with a hood to hide my face.  I don’t need to draw any attention to myself down here and everyone looks much the same; all faceless and twitchy.  I’m armed to the hilt with more knives than is legal and enough fire power to blow a whole block to shreds.  The heaviness of the metal against the outside of my thighs is a welcome comfort as I stalk down the fetid alleyways of Gamble 6’s Paradise Quarter.  

I head into a bar; Dag’s Place and do a quick scan of the dimly lit room.  The air is heavy with the stench of moonshine, furtiveness and sweat.  Its full of the worst kind of the planet’s law breakers; card hustlers, criminals, whores and perverts.  No-one looks in my direction as I walk slowly into the room, seeking out my target in the darkest corners. 

I see him. 

Huddled in a corner, hunched over a glass opposite a companion that could be dead if it weren’t for the loud snores coming from his drooling mouth. 

I slide into the chair opposite. 

“Hello Gus,” I say in a low, steady voice, completely belying the hatred and anger I feel rising within me as I look at him. 

He startles and his eyes try to focus on me. 

“Maitland?” 

“The one and only.” 

He grunts and goes back to staring into his glass. 

“Been waiting for you.” 

“Have you now?” I snark, heart pounding. 

“James came to see me,” He continues, turning his glass slowly in his huge, calloused hand.  Then his voice breaks: “I’m so sorry Darklis, so sorry……” 

His tears take me by surprise a little but my anger is so raw that I have little time for sympathy. 

“Were you ever going to tell me?” I hiss, stealthily sliding a hand under my coat to finger one of my guns. 

“I wanted to, believe me,” He sobs, wiping his eyes on the back of his filthy hands.  “But James……….”

“Fuck James,” I spit, un-holstering my gun and slamming it down on the table in front of me.  No one in the room bats an eyelid.  “Why didn’t you tell me?  You’re the closest thing to family I had left.  You owe me a fucking explanation.” 

“I know I do, I know,” Gus continues to sob, not able to bring himself to look at me.  “But I know what you’re like.  You would have gone looking for James.  He’s dangerous and I was trying to look out for you.  And then after what……what he did to you, I couldn’t add fuel to that fire.” 

“Oh, I’ll get James for what he did,” My voice is low now, a faint tremble hinting at the anger inside. 

“Y…..you don’t understand,” Gus’s breaths are coming in rasps now.  “It was James.  _He’s_ the one that killed your parents.” 

Numbness. 

Emptiness. 

“What?” I manage to force out.

“He’s the one Darklis.  He’s the one that had  Renner Snr. working for him.  He didn’t want to throw that card game, he was made to,” Gus pauses to drain the rest of his whisky.  “James threatened his family.  He wanted your daddy to pay.  You know he always followed the law to the letter and he told James no to an illegal shipment of meds.  So he made Renner Snr set him up.” 

Breath feels constricted. 

Bile is rising again. 

James. 

It all comes back to the sick fucking cunt. 

“I couldn’t have you knowing.  James is a sick bastard and I couldn’t have you tracking him down.  You’d never have come back alive.” 

I stand abruptly, my skin crawling.  My fists rest on the table as I try to steady myself, try to stop the bile from rising. 

My fingers curl around the butt of my gun.  It feels good.  Safe. 

“You fucking coward Gus.  You fat, fucking coward.” 

“I know,” His face is wet with tears as he finally looks up into my face under the hood of my coat.  “I know.” 

I grip the gun and bring it up slowly to aim at his forehead.  Despite feeling as though I’m being ripped apart by my emotions, my hand is steady as I take of the safety. 

“I trusted you,” I say in a whisper, my eyes boring into his with all the fire of my hatred. 

He says nothing, only closes his eyes. 

I take a moment. 

I want to memorise his face before I kill him. 

“Maitland, don’t,” A familiar voice comes from the shadows to my left. 

It’s a default reflex to reach for my other gun and point it in the direction of the voice. 

“Stay the fuck out of this Renner,” I growl, my eyes never leaving Gus. 

“Don’t do this,” Renner steps out of the shadows, one of his 6-shooters raised and pointed at me.  “Let the Law deal with him.  I’ve been watching him for the last 2 days.  I’ve got enough on this bastard to put him away for life.”

“ _STAY THE FUCK OUT OF THIS!”_ I shout, pressing the barrel of my gun into Gus’ forehead. 

“Don’t make me shoot you Maitland.” 

Take a breath. 

Close eyes. 

Exhale. 

Pull both triggers.


	8. Chapter 8

Head cloudy. 

Arm burning. 

Something soft under my head. 

Blood pounding in my veins. 

Try to move. 

Pain screaming up my arm. 

“….the fuck?” 

“Stay put Maitland,” That voice.  Why is it always there to cut through the fog? 

“Wh…..where……. what……” 

“Sshhhh, just stay put,” The voice again, low, husky, soothing. 

Swallow hard. 

Try to focus. 

“Renner?” 

“ ‘Fraid so,” 

I groan – will I never get rid of him? 

“Where am I?” 

“Your apartment,” He says and I hear him moving to my right.  “But we can’t stay.  You shooting Gus in the face in front of a bar full of people means that you’re now a wanted woman.” 

I laugh.  

It’s a hollow, weary laugh. 

“I’m taking you to The Brandt as soon as you’re OK to move,” He says, closer this time.  “I had to take the shot.  Not that it matters.  You were too fast and killed him anyway.  Stupid move Maitland.” 

“I told you to stay out of it,” I groan as I try to move again, forcing myself to sit up.  

I’m in my bed, back at home. 

Home. 

Not any more.

“And I told you not to do anything stupid.  I knew you wouldn’t listen so I’ve been watching you since we landed.” 

“So you’re a fucking pervert now too?” 

He sighs. 

“You’re my responsibility. 

“I’m _NO-ONE’S_ responsibility,” I spit, swinging my legs over the side of the bed.  

“Well, you’re stuck with me now, seeing as I was in the bar with you and dragged you away before The Law arrived.” 

I grunt as I bring a hand up to my shoulder.  He’s dressed the wound and it’s a tidy job. 

“It’s a straight through and through,” He says and I can hear the self satisfied smile on his face before I see it.  “You may be faster than me, but I know where to put a bullet without doing any damage.” 

“No damage?” I hiss, my fingers tentatively feeling the wound under the bandage.  “I’ve got a fucking hole in my shoulder.” 

“It’s just a scratch, stop being such a baby.”

*******

We leave under the cover of the night.  It takes longer to get to the ship than usual as we have to hide in the shadows to avoid being seen.  I don’t want to admit it, but I’m grateful that Renner has me propped up against him, my good arm around his shoulders.  The pain shooting across my chest from the bullet wound is making me weak and if he wasn’t holding me up, I’d slither to the ground. 

He presses us up against a wall next to the landing pad where The Brandt is sitting.  It’s raining and our breath rises like steam as we both pant into the night air.  My hood is hiding my face and Renner has his fedora pulled down almost to his nose. 

“Ready?” He breathes and I feel him grip me tighter around my ribs as he readies us to make the run to the ship.  I grunt in reply and we’re off, running as fast as I can go, damaged arm limp at my side, making our way across the docking bay.  We reach the safety of the hull and Renner punches the loading bay release switch.  The ramp swings down and he hauls me up the metal platform and into the safety of the ship. 

He lowers me into one of the flight chairs and takes my pilot’s chair himself, flicking switches and firing up The Brandt as he straps himself in.  I’m in too much pain to argue and before we’ve even left the landing pad, I pass out.

********* 

The lights are low when I wake and I can feel from the padding underneath me that I’m back in my bunk.  As I move my legs, I realise that I’m under the sheets. 

And I’m naked. 

Almost naked.

A quick assessment tells me that I still have my underwear on. 

But it still means that _HE_ undressed me. 

“Don’t move around so much,” That low, husky voice now so familiar says as I scramble to sit up, pulling the sheets up around me.  “I’m not that good at stitching and if you carry on like that, you’ll rip them open.” 

“You undressed me?” 

“I did.  You were bleeding all over your clothes.” 

I curl my legs up to my chest under the sheets and do my best to cover as much of me as possible.  I reach for my knife that I keep under my pillow. 

It’s not there. 

“Didn’t want you waking up and slashing this pretty face,” He smirks as he watches me frantically searching for the blade.  As I scramble in vain for the knife, the sheet falls away from my side, leaving me exposed.  My breath catches in my throat as he reaches out and runs his fingers softly over my hideously scared flesh at my side.  

I’m in too much pain to fight. 

But I flinch at his touch.  

He doesn’t remove his hand but continues to trace every bump and every twisted piece of raised and hardened flesh with his fingertips. 

“That fucker is going to pay for what he did,”

 


	9. Chapter 9

“Don't fucking touch me.” 

“I don't see you fightin'.” 

“Just.........just don't.” 

Renner ignores me and carries on tracing my scar with his long fingers. I wince was I feel him touch every bump, every ridge. The part for my brain that wants this is forcing the other side of my brain to be quiet. 

It's been so long. 

So long. 

A single, solitary tear rolls down my cheek as he spreads his whole hand out over the scar tissue and I clutch my knees tighter to me. He moves to sit on the edge of the bunk next to me, never removing his hand. 

“Don't be ashamed of it,” He says softly, finally taking his hand from me and pulling the sheet up to cover me. “It's your battle scar. It's a part of you now. Don't see it as a something to hide. You survived and you came out fighting. You're so much stronger than you think.” 

My eyes close and more silent tears fall. He wipes them away with his thumb. How can I keep showing this man weakness? How does he manage to pull that side of me out? And why am I not fighting him with everything I have? 

“The same goes for all the other scars,” He continues, lets his hand drop to the bunk. My eyes fly open as I realise that of course he's seen the others – he undressed me. He's seen every last burn mark, every knife slash and every bullet wound on my body. “Wear them proudly.” He brings his hand up, pressing two fingers lightly to my temple. “Even the ones in here.” 

I try to find some witty retort but nothing comes. 

Nothing except for more tears. 

He pulls me to him, strong arms scooping me into him as great, rasping sobs begin to wrack my entire body. My head goes to the crook of his neck as every pent up emotion from the past years come gushing out against his warm, solid body. He lets me cry. Lets me lose all control. 

“Let it go,” He whispers, both hands spread wide against the skin of my back, warm and reassuring. “Good girl.” 

I don't try to chastise him for calling me that this time. I just want to stay there, safe and secure. I haven't felt like this with any man for so many years. I've never trusted anyone, never let them in. It's been easier that way. Easier to do my job with no emotions.  

Easier to survive. 

Easier to carry on living. 

I'd blocked it all out, tried to pretend it never happened. Tried to erase all of it from my mind and carry on just existing.  

Each breath is a gulp of air before another uncontrollable sob. The side of Renner's neck is now soaked with my tears and the collar of his shirt drenched.  

He smells good.  

Earthy. 

Real.  

One of his hands moves from my back to the base of my skull, his fingers gently stroking my hair. The movement is soothing and my sobs soon start to subside. All thoughts of my latest bullet wound are forgotten as I concentrate on his steady breathing to bring my own back under control. As I feel the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, my eyes start to close, sleep suddenly overcoming me. I'm exhausted and Renner's solid and reassuring mass is lulling me to sleep. I finally relax against him, inhaling his scent at his neck. As my body goes limp in his arms, he gently start to lower me backwards onto my bunk. He sits back and pulls the sheets up around me as I curl up on my side. He stands to leave me to sleep but I hazily stretch out an arm to take his wrist. 

“Stay, please,” My voice is small, almost child-like.  

He pulls a chair up to the side of the bunk but before he can sit, I tug at his rolled up shirt cuff. He smiles softly as he realises what I mean. He crawls onto the bunk behind me, fully clothed and on top of the sheets. His body fits around mine perfectly and he places a protective hand at my hip. Throwing all caution to the wind and desperate for that human touch, I pull his arm up so that its wrapped around my ribs, the warmth from his hand radiating through the sheet. I can feel his breath on the back of my neck and it's comforting. 

Eyes closing. 

Breath deepening. 

Feel safe. 

** ** ** ** 

Eyes feel heavy, puffy. 

Brow furrows. 

Heavy arm across my waist. 

Body stiffens. 

The memory of the previous day comes flooding back and a small groan escapes my lips as I remember my tears. I can tell that from Renner's breathing that he's still sleeping. He hasn't moved since I fell asleep, his arm still wrapped protectively around me. My body relaxes the feeling of safety washes over me and I just lie there listening to him breath. As stealthy as I can, I place a hand over his as it rests on my stomach. He stirs, his hold tightening slightly as I feel his body stretch a little behind me. 

“You didn't try to run away,” He murmurs, not trying to remove his hand. Instead, he laces his fingers in mine against my skin. 

“Didn't feel like running,” I say simply. 

I can hear him smile without having to see his face.

“So what now?” He asks eventually. 

“No fucking idea,” I reply, quietly willing this moment to never end. Just lying here, feeling safe.  

“How are you feeling?” 

“Strangely calm.” 

“I tend to have that effect on people.”

I allow myself a snort of laughter and the deep, rumbling chuckle I get in return makes me smile . But I do feel strangely calm. Showing my vulnerable side to Renner the day before has set something free from within me. I'm no longer scared, no longer held prisoner by my thoughts. Just having that human contact has relaxed me, made me feel stronger.

And I was starting to trust him. 

I never trusted anyone. 

Not any more. 

“How's the shoulder?” 

I flex my arm and the pain is still there but it burns less. 

“I owe you a bullet,” I say, being careful not to move my arm too much as I feel the stitches pinch.

“Looking forward to it.” 

** ** **

On the flight deck later, I'm deep in thought when Renner appears in the doorway with two mugs of coffee. He puts one in front of me before leaning against the console.

“Penny for them,” He says. 

“I'm going after James,” I reply, jaw set as I'm stirred from my thoughts. 

“Then you're not going alone.” 

“You don't have to babysit me,” I almost growl at him.  

“I'm not babysitting you,” He rolls his eyes and puts his mug down. “He's hurt more than just you.” 

I think for a moment and I can feel his eyes on me, trying to second guess my plans. 

“You know I probably won't be coming back from this?” 

“I know,” He sighs, a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Will you at least wait a few days so your shoulder can start healing?” 

I'm eager to start searching for James but I know that Renner is right. There's no point going looking for him while I can barely move my arm. I give him a nod and the sadness in his eyes eases a little.  

“If I need to rest up, then you're going to have to start pulling your weight,” I begin, propping my feet up in their usual place on the console. “That oxygen leak is still causing problems, one of the thrusters isn't firing properly and there's a coolant leak in the cargo bay.” 

He raises an eyebrow at me, a smirk beginning to spread across his face. I prod him with one of my feet and he pushes back. 

“I'd best get too it then,” He laughs, draining his coffee and standing up. 

“Yeah, you'd better fucking had.”


	10. Chapter 10

The last 3 days have dragged by frustratingly slowly.  Renner isn’t letting me do much, keeps insisting that I take it easy and let the bullet wound start healing.  For me, it’s almost impossible to sit around doing nothing.  I’ve never been good at doing that and having someone else working on my ship has been hard.  

He’s done everything I’ve told him to do and he’s good at it.  The oxygen leak is fixed, as is the coolant leak in the cargo bay.  The left thruster is now firing on all cylinders and he’s even found time to fix some wiring _AND_ the glitch in the navigation system.  

And things are easier between us both too.  I’m no longer a coiled spring, ready at any moment to reach for my knife when he walks into a room.  Whenever we’re in the same space together, he finds a way of touching me.  Just a simple hand on my shoulder or the small of my back as he squeezes past me in the galley.  It’s almost as if he’s desensitising me to his presence on the ship.  

Either that or………

I don’t want to think about it.  

My brain is nowhere near ready to process anything like that; despite that fact that  my body has a mind of its own where he’s concerned.  It just seems to gravitate towards him. And whenever I feel his eyes on me, my cheeks flush of their own accord and I can’t look him in the eye. 

Now is a prime example. 

He’s bent over me, inspecting his stitching skills while I sit my flight chair.  His brow is furrowed as he ever so gently touches the now healing wound, testing the edges and making sure that it’s healing as it should.  I can feel his breath on my shoulder as he peers closer and his hair ever so slightly brushes against my cheek. 

I inhale sharply. 

“Sorry, it’s still sore,” He says and quickly removes his fingertips.  My cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink and I hope to god that he can’t see it in fairly dim light of the flight deck. 

“Only a bit,” I say, watching as he gets a fresh dressing out and places it over the wound. 

“It’s not infected, which is good,” He continues, taping down the dressing, being careful not to press too hard.  

“Does that mean I can get back to some manual labour?” 

“No,” He chuckles, low and rusty.  “Not for a few more days at least.” 

I roll my eyes and slump back into the chair. 

“It’s for your own good Maitland,” He laughs louder.  

“Yeah, yeah……” 

**        **        ** 

I’m pacing the corridor a few days later, my skin itchy and cabin fever starting to set in.  Renner appears at one end, clearly half asleep after I’ve woken him up with the clatter of my boots on the metal floor. 

“Some of us were trying to sleep Maitland,” He grumbles, yawning widely.  

I stop in my tracks.  

He’s obviously just pulled on his battered leather trousers because he’s only just buttoning them up.  The rest of him is naked and my heart skips a beat as I look at him. 

No. 

Stop that. 

His skin is smooth caramel and his torso is covered in scars.  Old bullet wounds, knife slashes and other jagged scars that haven’t been stitched properly.  There’s an almost overwhelming part of me that wants to reach out and touch each one in turn.  He yawns again and rubs his hand back and forth in his already ruffled hair. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” I say, tearing my eyes away from him and continuing my pacing.  

“Yeah, well, neither can I now,” His face eases into a lopsided grin, his eyes watering a little after all the yawning. 

“Go back to bed,” I say, starting towards him to get to my room.  Just as I’m about to pass him, he reaches out and takes my wrist.  I stop abruptly as my skin feels like its burning.  He’s just inches from me now. 

No. 

Stop. 

“Wanna talk about it?” He asks, his blue-green eyes sleepy but with a touch of concern. 

“No.” 

“Can I help?” 

“No.” 

He lets go of my wrist but I don’t walk away.  He’s so close and my body is screaming at me to reach out and touch him. 

But my head is screaming at me to turn tail and run. 

“I just…….I……..” 

My body betrays me and before I can stop it, my hand reaches out and my fingers brush over a scar on his ribs. 

He sucks in a breath but doesn’t stop me. 

“You’re like me,” I say in a small voice whilst taking in his other scars. 

My hand comes to rest over his ribs and I manage to drag my eyes up to meet his.  They’re full of questions but he doesn’t ask them.  

He doesn’t move 

And I don’t take my hand away. 

His skin is smooth and warm. 

And comforting. 

“Maitland……,” He begins softly, slowly raising a hand to cover mine that is still splayed out over his skin. 

“Never mind,” I say, letting my hand slip out from under his and turning to walk away, embarrassed at myself for being so…. so…… 

What _AM_ I being? 

This isn’t me.  

I don’t go around touching strange, half naked men on my ship.  

Who am I now?  

I’m letting my guard slip and that’s never a good thing.  I need to be more careful, more alert.  Just because he hasn’t tried something doesn’t mean he won’t.  He seems genuine but it could all be a front.  He could be as sly as I first thought he was and all this kindness and concern is just to catch me off guard enough.

“Talk to me Maitland,” Renner says softly from behind me.  Clearly, I didn’t make it very far when I walked away.  Only a few steps in fact. 

Fuck you body. 

Fuck you and your sudden need to be close to this man.

“It’s nothing,” I say, waving my hand behind me to brush him off.  “Forget it.” 

This time I really do walk away, heading to my quarters without a second glance over my shoulder at him.

Just walk away. 

Leave him there. 

Walk away. 

I close the door behind me, leaning my back against it.  I’m trembling, my hands shaking as I wipe sweat from my forehead.

What the fuck is wrong with me? 

I can’t get a grip on my feelings.  I want him near and yet I don’t. 

I can’t let him in, can’t let him near. 

A knock at the door. 

I jump. 

“Maitland…..” His voice is low and slightly muffled through the door. 

I don’t answer. 

He doesn’t try again. 

I slide down the door and pull my knees up to my chest. 

I need to get a grip.


	11. Chapter 11

The past two days have been spent successfully avoiding Renner.  I didn’t come out of my quarters for 24 hours after I'd encountered him in the corridor.  He’s knocked a few times, tried to coax me out but I don’t answer him.  Hunger has got the better of me though and I’m sneaking bootless down to the galley.  I don’t want the clattering of my boots on the metal floor to draw any attention to me.  

Not that it's made any difference. 

He’s there, leaning up against the sink drinking coffee. 

“Hey,” He says simply as he sees me freeze in the doorway, and looks down at my bare feet.  “You don’t have to sneak around your own ship Maitland.  I don’t bite.” 

I’ve got nothing. 

No comeback. 

No scathing remark. 

I feel like a prized fucking idiot. 

“Where did you get all those scars?” I say instead. 

“Lots of places,” He says.  “Too many scars with too many stories.” 

I nod. 

He doesn’t want to tell me. 

And I realise that I don’t mind. 

There’s an awkward silence and I can hear nothing but the hum of the ship. 

Now what? 

I turn to leave, my cheeks flushing pink again.  He stops me with a hand on my arm. 

“You must be starving,” His voice is low, soothing.  

I turn back to face him, his hand still on my arm, warm and gentle.  I look it against my skin, the calluses rubbing not unpleasantly against my flesh. 

A working man’s hands. 

My brain suddenly yearns to have them on my body, holding me, exploring me, and conquering me as I come apart under them.  

No. 

My body aching for him is one thing but my mind is, up to this point, still in control.  If I lose that too then I’m just going to throw myself out the fucking air lock and be done with it. 

He moves towards me to leave and as he passes me in the doorway, he brushes up against me, his whole body pressed against me for the briefest of moments and I can’t stop the small, almost silent moan that escapes my lips as I feel his body make contact with mine.  He stops, his eyes questioning me. 

“Maitland?” It’s a question and I have no answer.  I just sag backwards against the steel of the doorframe, my lips parting slightly as I stare back into the blue-green of his eyes. 

His hand comes up slowly.  All his movements when he’s near me are slow, deliberate, as if he’s trying not to startle me.  He brushes my cheek with the back of his hand and I sigh as my skin begins to tingle.  His fingertips make their way down the side of my neck and across my collarbone where they stop. 

Heart pounding. 

Breath shallow. 

Eyes heavy. 

 _I want this._  

 _I want him._  

No. 

Stop. 

 _Yes._  

 _You want this._  

 _You want him._  

“It’s OK,” He whispers, his fingers gently stroking my clavicle.  “You’re in control.  Tell me what you want, what you need.” 

A strangled sob escapes the back of my throat at his words. 

So soft.

So tender. 

He takes my chin in his thumb and finger and tilts my face up to his.  His eyes search mine which are already swimming with tears. 

“I’ve got you,” He murmurs and my face begins to crumple as I realise that he means it. 

He’s got me. 

I can lean on him and I know he’ll be there to hold me up when my barriers come down.  

I know he’ll be the one to bring them down; brick by brick, scar by scar. 

And I want him to be the one to do it.  I want him to be the one to show me that it can be gentle, caring, _loving._ I want him to be the one to make me forget everything that's happened to me and replace it with _his_ hands, _his_ arms, _his_ scent and _his_ voice. 

In that moment I now know that I trust him. 

Completely. 

Utterly. 

Entirely. 

I know that he’ll follow me wherever I lead and he’ll be there to catch me when I fall. 

“Kiss me, _please_?” I almost plead, my eyes trying to convey to him everything that just went through my mind. 

He smiles and lowers his lips to mine and gently kisses the corner of my mouth that’s pulling downwards as my tears threaten to spill over once again.  His lips are soft, lush and my hands come up to hold either side of his face and pull him to me.  He brushes my lips with his and I ache for him. 

I ache for him with every fibre of my being. 

And I realise that I’ve being longing for this for a long time. 

 _Oh such a long time._  

Longing and aching for this most human and caring of touches.  

Longing to feel like a woman again.

“ _Please...,”_ I manage to whisper, his lips so close to mine. 

So close. 

And he does. 

He presses his lips to mine, gently, tenderly and I moan then. 

A moan from deep inside me as his lips bring down the very first brick.

 _Yes._  

_I want this._


	12. Chapter 12

 I _DO_ want this. 

 _I know that now._  

His lips are so soft against mine, almost as if he’s afraid of hurting me or scaring me away.  His hand is still on my collarbone, his other still hanging in a fist at his side.  He really is letting me take control.  My hands are travelling from his face into his hair.  He exhales through his nose across my cheek as he feels my fingers curl around his hair and he increases the pressure of his lips a little more.  

 _ _Touch me.__  

 _ _I want you to touch me.__  

 _ _Bring down my walls.__  

His hand slowly begins to move over the back of my shoulder, skimming my shoulder blades, his fingers splaying out as he comes to rest in the small of my back.  The heat from him radiates out, spreading his warmth through my back and into the rest of my body.  He applies a little pressure and my body voluntarily arches towards him slightly, desperate to feel more of him.  My fingers tighten in his hair and a soft, low moan tumbles from the back of my throat.  He slides his tongue along my bottom lip, tentative and I part my own lips, opening to him. 

 _ _Yes.__  

 _ _I want this.__  

I start to kiss him back more eagerly.  He tastes of coffee and engine grease and safety and I want more.  His hand on my back fists around my grey vest top and his other hand is in my hair.  I don’t remember him moving it but his fingers wind around the long strands, stroking and reassuring.  My tongue meets his and he pulls me into him.  I’m pressed against him and he feels strong and warm and safe.  It’s been such a long time since I felt a man against me like this in a way that I actually want that a sound of surprise rumbles through me. 

He pulls away from me to search my face, his eyes questioning, a little worried and seeking reassurance.  

“Don’t…….. stop……..,” I stutter out and I can see a smile ghost across his face.  He looks at my mouth and leans in again, lips meeting lips. 

 _ _Yes.__  

 _ _I want this.__  

__I want all of it._ _

__All of you.__  

My kissing becomes more urgent and eager.  My hands are travelling down his back now, fingertip brushing over the thin, silky material of his waistcoat. Who even wears a waistcoat these days?  

My hands come to rest on his waist, just above the belt of his leather trousers.  I so want to run my hands over that spectacular backside of his but I hesitate, unsure of my self. 

It’s been so long. 

 _ _Do it.__  

 _ _You want this.__  

I tentatively skim a hand over the leather behind him then back up.  His breath hitches a little and a tiny moan escapes him. 

I do it again. 

Again he makes that noise and his kisses are harder now.  I can’t get enough of how he tastes.  I want more.  I want to know what the rest of him tastes like.  I can feel myself opening to him, the first of my walls dropping and falling away.  

Then he stops. 

He’s pulling away. 

 _ _NO!__  

 _ _I WANT THIS.__  

 _ _I WANT YOU.__  

My eyes are pleading with him, questioning him. 

“Slow down there Maitland,” He breathes, his hands moving to rest on my shoulders.  

“No……more,” I breathe, leaning into him, desperate to feel his lips on mine again. 

“You don’t want to rush this,” He says, his face soft and kind but his eyes are the inky dark of his pupils. 

“ _More!”_ I almost whine, trying to lean into him again but he’s holding me firmly away from him.  I hear a deep, rusty chuckle come from him and I frown. 

“And you’ll have more, just not right now,” He almost purrs at me and my body shivers all on its own.  “You don’t want to rush this.  Besides, I’m not going anywhere.” 

My shoulders droop and I stare at his chest.  

He’s right. 

He strokes my cheek and I press my face into his hand.  He’s so warm and solid and I just want to melt into him. 

“In the meantime, you need sleep,” He says, a little louder this time.  

I mumble something at him and turn to walk away.  His hand falls away to his side and suddenly I’m cold without his body close to mine.  I shiver a little, hugging my arms to me. 

“Hey Maitland,” He says, his voice low.  I turn to face him, somehow managing to bring my eyes up to meet his.  “You’re beautiful.”

I can feel my cheeks start to pink and I can’t help the little smile that spreads across my face.  His blue-green eyes hold my own hazel ones for a moment then I turn and head back to my quarters.

********

I’m lying in my bunk, sleep eluding me yet again.  I can’t get him out of my head and no matter how many times I try and focus on something else, his face appears in front of me.  After what seems like hours of tossing and turning in my bunk, I’m admitting defeat and staring at the ceiling. 

Going against everything I would have done in the past, I swing my legs out of my bunk and head to the corridor.  I pad across the metal floor to the door of his quarters and knock softly.  There’s no reply so I quietly push the door open.  Its dark but I can hear him breathing steadily.  

He’s sleeping. 

I hesitate half way into the room and almost retreat back to my quarters. 

Something stops me. 

A pull from deep within me drags me towards his bunk.  Noiselessly and as stealthily as I can, I climb into his bunk with him.  He’s facing towards me and I curl myself up as close to him as I can, desperate for some sort of contact.  He stirs slightly, limbs heavy with sleep and opens his arms.  I wriggle closer and he wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his naked chest.  I bury my face in the curve of his neck and inhale deeply.  He smells of leather and engine oil and man and I sigh quietly as I breathe him in.

“Couldn’t sleep either huh?” 

I freeze. 

The fucker does a great impression of being asleep. 

I don’t say anything, just nuzzle closer and even though I can’t see his face, I know there’s a smirk there.  

As the warmth from his body radiates through me and his arms feel like a protective blanket around me, I’m asleep in seconds.


End file.
